


Wordplay

by entanglednow



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-25
Updated: 2011-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 01:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's fairly sure that every day isn't going to be like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wordplay

Clint's fairly sure that every day isn't going to be like this. Magical hammers, Vikings, giant storms from space. Sure, he'd read some of the files, he'd figured that was to prepare him for how weird things could get on a bad day. But the way people talk around here - hell, he's not so sure any more. Maybe every day is like this. Maybe they just ease people in gently.

He holds his breath, and shoves his head under the shower, washes off the rain, sweat, and spatters of mud.

He's still wrapping a towel round his waist, when he spots Coulson, and no one should be able to blend into a white tiled wall, while dressed like a stereotypical Suit. Coulson's managing it just fine. In fact he looks like he could have been waiting there forever. Until he wanted someone to notice him.

"Enjoying the view?" Clint asks. Since he's pretty sure the man's been there for a while. He doesn't even get a twist of mouth, and that's disappointing. Coulson remains stubbornly unwilling to play. "Because, you know, you could have waited outside."

"You're a hard man to pin down." It's almost an accusation, like it would be written down in a file somewhere, possibly in red pen.

"Depends who's doing the pinning," Clint can't help but add.

Coulson's face does react then, something small, somewhere between a sigh and a wince. Clint's fairly sure the innuendo had been unintentional, and that might be the first time he's ever managed to press Coulson's buttons. Clint hadn't even known he _had_ buttons.

"Hesitation, Mr Barton, I hope it doesn't become a habit." It's said so softly that for a moment he doesn't even feel the sting.

Clint shakes water out of his hair, which he's pretty sure is pushing it a little. But there's no reaction at all to the spray of droplets, now spattered across Coulson's suit.

"I get the job done," he says firmly.

Coulson nods, in agreement, but his eyes narrow.

"In a manner you feel appropriate."

Clint can't tell if that's a question or not, but he answers anyway.

"Yeah."

Coulson tips his head back to look at him properly. "I like everything to run efficiently."

Clint's pretty sure that's a warning.

"You don't want anyone running off half-cocked," he says seriously, and it's a fight to hold the smile under the words.

Coulson just looks at him, and honestly, it's like winning some sort of prize.

"I'd appreciate it, if you'd remember that." Coulson steps away from the wall, straightens a sleeve, and then heads for the door, turning his back on Clint without a care.

"About the pinning me down -" Clint calls across the locker room.

Coulson pauses at the door, head tipped back just a little, as if he knows he's going to regret waiting.

"Any time." Clint doesn't bother to hold the laugh that time.


End file.
